


flair for dramatics

by gigglesandfreckles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: :), Anakin and Ahsoka perform a play of their own work, Disaster Lineage, Fluff, Good kind of suffering, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan is forced to suffer, but not like he usually does, lineage feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglesandfreckles/pseuds/gigglesandfreckles
Summary: when the gang gets their ship stranded on a desert planet, Anakin and Ahsoka get creative as they try to keep spirits up and minds off the sweltering heat. Obi-Wan questions his sanity.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 13
Kudos: 206





	flair for dramatics

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write some whump tonight, but immediately deleted it and came up with this instead. I'm happy with that decision :)

“What was _so_ urgent, Cody?” asked Obi-Wan, pausing as he observed the semi-circle of seats that had been arranged on the bridge. Several clones sat around, in various states of down-dress. It appeared that every functioning fan had been moved into the room, but most of the men were still fanning themselves or covered in sweat. Even so, they seemed...happy.

Ahsoka smiled from her place standing in front of them all and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows lifted. Her normal garb was covered by a robe that didn’t fit her at _all_. It was gathered in a pile at her feet and so obviously _Anakin’s_. “Take a seat, Master.” she chirped.

“Did you miss the memo on things being _hot?_ ” he inquired, thinking of the desert planet their ship had been stuck on for the past several hours.

She grinned in response.

“Snips is just committed to the part.” Obi-Wan noticed, for the first time, Anakin was standing next to her in–now wait a minute– _his robes_.

“Anakin, what are you–“

“We’re bored, it’s hot as hell, and no one’s coming to pick us up for at least another few hours,” is what Anakin offered as an explanation for him wearing his former master’s clothes.

“I don’t see what _that_ has to do with–”

“Oh, come on, General!” It was Fives speaking up now, from his spot on the floor. He was dressed down more than any of them, fully negating his armour for his black undersuit. Obi-Wan didn’t blame him; it really was so _hot_. “Sit down and have some fun!”

Rex looked like he was going to box the back of Fives’ head and Cody’s face had turned beet red, so Obi-Wan felt it was in the best interest of everyone if he followed Fives’ orders. He took a deep breath and dropped into the open chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“Are you going to sing for us?” he quipped toward Anakin and Ahsoka.

“Not quite,” Anakin grinned. He turned to Ahsoka and his smile grew. “From the top?” 

“From the top,” she nodded vigorously.

Obi-Wan frowned, trying to understand what exactly he was sitting down for. Everyone in the room seemed to know something he didn’t and that was a _lousy_ feeling. Just as he was about to turn to Cody for an explanation, Anakin dropped to the ground.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in wild concern but the clones around him began to chuckle. _Chuckle_. Hadn’t they just seen their general _collapse?_ Why was everyone so–

“Master?” Ahsoka asked in a voice that wasn’t her own.

Anakin stayed motionless.

“Master Kenobi?” Ahsoka elaborated this time and Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, the pieces starting to come together. He opened his mouth to interrupt, but Cody placed a placating hand on his shoulder and leaned over.

“Let the kid have her fun,” he said quietly, a small smile in place.

Well, if _Cody_ wasn’t on his side, the galaxy had truly been flopped around. Obi-Wan sighed, settling back into this chair.

Ahsoka was kneeling over Anakin’s– _Obi-Wan’s, apparently_ –body. She poked him in the back and loudly said, “Master, wake up.”

Anakin flopped over, dramatically, whacking Ahsoka in a way that looked as if they had spent _hours_ rehearsing it. As Obi-Wan considered how bored they’d all been on this ridiculous planet, he realised they probably _did_. 

An over-exaggerated snore came from Anakin.

“Master, we have to–”

“ _Anakin?!_ ” Anakin suddenly sat up, gripping Ahsoka’s shoulder and screaming in her face with the worst Coruscanti accent Obi-Wan had ever _heard_. “Anakin, my wonderful, incredible, handsome padawan, is that you?!”

Fives was the first one to crack. Obi-Wan could hardly describe the sound as anything other than an outright _giggle_.

“Yes, Master, it’s me!” Ahsoka responded, her voice still coming out squeaky. “You have to get up! We’re late for the briefing!”

Obi-Wan’s stomach flopped. He’d only ever been late for one briefing in his entire _life_ and it–

Anakin gasped, a hand over his heart. “Anakin, did you feed Yiruma?”

_No._

“Yiruma?” asked Ahsoka in over-dramatic confusion. She really was a _terrible_ actor. 

“Yiruma.” Anakin confirmed, gripping both of Ahsoka’s shoulders.

“Master, I don’t know a Yiruma.”

“The fish! My fish! Yiruma! He has to be fed!” Anakin cried.

Obi-Wan wanted to crawl under his chair. The men in this room would never be able to look at him without laughing again, let alone respect any sort of necessary authority on the battlefield.

“You don’t have a fish!” Ahsoka squeaked.

“This is my favourite part,” Rex grinned. Obi-Wan covered his face with his hands.

“But I do, my dear Padawan!” Anakin cried, clutching at his chest theatrically. “ _I do!!!!_ ”

It had been early in their partnership. Anakin had only been ten, maybe eleven-years-old. They’d begun to find a rhythm together, but Anakin hadn’t been prepared for Obi-Wan to launch into a spiel about his secret childhood fish. Of course, Anakin also hadn’t understood Obi-Wan was sleep talking until–

“If Master Yoda finds him, I’ll have to run away! Go quickly, Anakin. Find the fish in my closet and feed it before Master Yoda gets here!” Anakin’s accent had fallen so far from Coruscanti, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have even been sure who he was impersonating if it hadn’t been _him._

Younglings in the Temple weren’t allowed to have pets. It was partly because of the edicts on possession, but mostly because children simply couldn’t be trusted to take care of a living and breathing thing. Even so, Obi-Wan–with Luminara’s help–had managed to smuggle in a fish as a young initiate and had worked tirelessly to conceal it from Yoda.

It wasn’t until Yoda had been the one to find Obi-Wan in tears staring at the dead fish in the lavatory that it was revealed he’d known all along.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Master Kenobi!” Ahsoka shook her head so hard, her padawan beads slapped across her face. She didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin rose from the ground and stood up straight. Obi-Wan almost smiled as he noticed the way his robes didn’t quite reach his former padawan’s feet. He’d grown so _much_ , and not just in stature. 

What stopped the smile from forming was Anakin’s next words.

“If I don’t have my fish, I can’t do my dance!”

Obi-Wan scoffed in indignation from his seat. “ _Now that is not–_ ”

“What dance?” Ahsoka asked with wide eyes, though it was obvious she was struggling at this point not to laugh.

“ _This one_.” Anakin drawled, dramatically puffing out the robe behind him and promptly dropping it to the ground. He snapped to a perfectly upright position and then–well, then–

“ _Anakin_ ,” Obi-Wan groaned, dropping his head to his hands.

His former padawan moved about the small space, dancing to a melody only he could hear and wiggling his eyebrows at Obi-Wan the entire time. It was _nothing_ like the dance Obi-Wan had done in his sleep all those years ago, but he supposed that was the _point._

As Anakin attempted a pathetic high kick, the clones began to clap in time to the song that _didn’t exist_. Suddenly, Obi-Wan had the suspicion that this wasn’t the first time this particular performance had been given today. Sure enough, Ahsoka was quickly linking her elbow with Anakin’s and joining in the dance.

The utter embarrassment of the moment seemed to dissolve as Obi-Wan looked about the bridge. Men of the 212th and 501st–men who only yesterday had been sweating, bleeding, and running for their lives–were now smiling, laughing, dancing along to this _ridiculous_ attempt at humour. 

Obi-Wan found that he couldn’t do anything but smile. His lips cracked, the small tinge of blood serving as a reminder that smiling wasn’t something he often found himself doing these days. Before he could stop it, his own leg was stomping to the off-rhythm beat established by the clones and he wasn’t only smiling, but _laughing_. 

A real laugh–his head in his hands and hair flopping over his eyes.

He laughed until his head hurt and his lips were sore and the clones who had been resting in the barracks had popped their heads into the bridge to see what their general was being so damn _loud_ about. Then, he laughed some more.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want a visual for Anakin's dance, I was imagining Spanish-Mode Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story 3 hahahaha
> 
> thank you for reading this fic from the depths of my psycho mind. I just want them to be happy.
> 
> tumblr: giggles-and-freckles


End file.
